Stay
by Gig in the Sky
Summary: Meredith. Derek. Candles. Somebody had to do it. Adult content; one shot.


She's confused when he smiles at her

She's confused when he smiles at her. It's possible, after all, to be disarmed with a smile. He smiles and he tells her that he has to go. He has to clear his conscience so that he can be with her without reservation, the way that she deserves. He doesn't say that, exactly, but his eyes tell her everything. And so she lets him walk away, even though he doesn't have the best track record for returning in a timely manner. He leaves her waiting.

But she'll wait. She's waited this long, after all. She's asked him to wait this long, too.

When he's gone, Meredith turns and surveys her house of candles. She's not sure what possessed her to stop at the dollar store on the way out to his trailer and buy their entire stock of tea lights and holders, but she didn't have the champagne, and she wanted something tangible to show Derek. She knew what she was coming here for.

To be extraordinary.

Meredith considers the floor plan that she's laid out and tries to figure out where their bedroom will be. It's almost comical that she forgot to allow space for the room where she and Derek were always the most equipped to communicate. She decides that maybe that's a sign, and decides to leave the floor plan as it is, for now.

She'll wait for Derek to come home and they'll figure it out together.

It's almost light by the time he returns, and the candles are nearly spent. She's broken her promise to him; she strayed from her spot to seek the warmth of the trailer, where she rounded up the quilt from his bed and his iPod to keep her company before she returned to where they will build their home.

When Derek returns, he finds her lying on top of the quilt on the grass staring up at the sky. Wordlessly, he slips off his shoes and lays down beside her, his hand finding hers in the dark.

"Is she okay?" Meredith murmurs, and his heart swells with love for her. Her selflessness never ceases to amaze him.

"Yeah," he whispers back. "She definitely got over liking me. Probably right around the time her shoe flew at my head."

Meredith is quiet for a minute. Then she turns her head to look at him. "No, she didn't."

Derek turns to face her.

"Trust me," she whispers knowingly.

He moves closer and presses his lips to her temple. "Do you want to go inside?" he asks when he pulls away.

Meredith shakes her head. "Not yet. Can we just stay here for a while?"

"Mmm," he agrees. They settle into a comfortable silence. Finally, Meredith shifts and sits up.

"Cold?" he asks her. She shakes her head and bends forward, returning with the bottle of champagne.

"We have to open it," she says. "You told me that when we got it right, we'd open it." She turns to look at him while he continues to recline on the grass.

Derek grins. "Yeah, I did."

"The tumor shrunk."

"It did," he confirms. He shakes his head in amazement. "Did you know that she woke up?"

Meredith's eyes go wide. "Beth?"

"Yes. She's awake and she's responsive, and she's making remarkable progress already." He smiles at her.

"We really did it."

"Mmm," he agrees. "But now we have to replicate it. And there's no guarantee that what worked for Beth will work for other people."

Meredith shakes her head. "I don't care. We did it. For her, we did. We saved her life."

"We're a pretty good team."

She cocks her head to study him. "Does that mean that you still want to work with me?"

Derek blanches. "Meredith…"

"I know."

"No," he says, sitting up beside her. "You don't. There are no words to tell you how much I regret saying those things to you."

"If I hadn't come here tonight, if we weren't where we are, would you still feel sorry?"

"Yes," he says without hesitation.

Meredith nods and then draws her knees up to her chest, shivering slightly. Derek pulls up the edges of the blanket to wrap around her shoulders and his hands run over her shoulders to warm her.

"Do you blame me?" she asks him in a soft voice. "For the patients we lost, for the mistakes we made?"

"No."

"That's what it felt like."

"I blamed myself," Derek confesses. "For the patients we lost, for the lives we risked, for the mistakes we made. I blamed myself for failing. Failing them, failing you, and failing us."

Meredith looks incredulous. "You think you failed me?"

"Didn't I?"

"Derek, I couldn't have done this without you."

"You could have done this with any neurosurgeon on staff."

Meredith shakes her head. "No," she insists. "I needed you. I needed your optimism and your faith."

He smiles softly. "It's funny how it turned out that you were the one who never gave up. I was so frustrated and angry and you never gave up. I'm sorry, Meredith. I'm sorry that I took it out on you, I'm sorry that I gave up, I'm sorry that I…"

Meredith cuts him off. "Derek."

He looks at her and he sees the way that her teeth scrape her bottom lip, as she considers what happens next. He sees the courage that she has when she exhales and smiles at him. "It's okay," she promises him.

He believes her; she doesn't usually promise him much, but when she does, her promises matter.

He looks around, and sees that most of the candles have extinguished themselves, but it doesn't matter. There are still some that burn.

He leans into her space until their mouths are a breath apart, and he feels her rapid breathing against his lips.

"I want everything to do with you," he whispers.

Meredith closes the gap and her hands come up to tangle in the dark waves of his hair, to pull him close. She takes the lead, and he's more than willing to follow it. When she runs out of oxygen, she pulls away, but rests her forehead against his to take a deep breath. She kisses him softly and then pulls further away, settling on her knees just inches beyond his reach.

"Here?" he asks her breathlessly, easily reading the expression on her face.

She shrugs and grins impishly. "Why not?"

"It's forty-five degrees out here."

Meredith laughs. "I promise you, you won't be cold."

"I was thinking about you."

"Right," she says, her voice teasing, taunting, daring him.

"The trailer is warm," he points out.

"Open the champagne."

He does as he's told because really, he'd do just about anything she asks. He killed for her.

"Glasses," he says, after he's popped the champagne and she's reached out with eager hands for the bottle. "We forgot glasses."

Meredith smirks. "Why do you think we need glasses?"

When his brow furrows in confusion, she reaches out and takes the bottle from him, then stands and takes a few steps back. She sips from the bottle and sways softly and invitingly. Derek gets to his feet, watching her move to whatever song is playing in her head.

"You know," he says softly, slowly approaching her. "Champagne's no good for you. Doesn't call, doesn't write…"

She smiles and holds her hand out to him and he closes the distance between them, wrapping her in his arms, inside his coat, while he takes the champagne from her with his free hand and takes a long sip. And then he kisses her again, his body matching the rhythm hers has found. They sway together and Derek buries his face in her hair and breathes her in. When Meredith shifts against him and her lips settle on his collarbone, he's amazed that he doesn't drop the champagne bottle. Her mouth travels over his skin, nipping and sucking, her tongue darting into the hollow at the base of his throat, sweeping over his Adam's apple, tasting, recalling and provoking.

"Meredith," Derek grunts. He pulls away and sets the bottle down so that his hands are both free, and then returns to her. They move together by silent ascent and their bodies fuse together. He kisses her until he's dizzy and then he pulls away to catch his breath.

"I couldn't… I can't stop thinking about…" Meredith says, struggling to breathe.

"About what?" Derek pants.

"Your tongue," she confesses. She laughs, and it's a bubbling, joyful thing.

"My tongue?"

"Yeah. Um, I couldn't stop thinking about it before. When we were apart, I couldn't stop thinking about your tongue."

Derek grins. "Mmm."

"Oh, God." She sounds mortified and amused at the same time. "You don't need a bigger ego."

"I thought you said that my ego was just the right size." He winks at her.

"Yes, your _ego_," she says emphatically, choking on her laughter.

"Mmm," Derek murmurs. "So, was it just my tongue that you were fantasizing about?"

"I was _not_ fantasizing! I was just… thinking. About your tongue." She grimaces. "Okay, forget I said anything about it."

"Oh, no," Derek says, moving back into her personal space. He kisses her hard and makes sure that she's thinking about his tongue. He pulls back with a wicked grin. "You didn't think about my hands?"

His fingertips trace the outline of the low neckline of her sweater, causing her to shiver when he skims them along the curves of her breasts.

"You wore my favorite sweater," he observes. He's pleased when his touch causes her to arch closer to him.

"And your favorite bra," she whispers, deciding to meet his unspoken challenge.

She bites back a smile when his pupils dilate and he swallows hard.

"Meredith," he sighs.

His hands move to the hem of her shirt and then he's pulling it up, up, and over her head.

The cool air sends shock waves through her body, but Derek's warmth soon makes up for it as he pulls her closer until she's pressed against him. Her hands wander everywhere, seeking more contact, more heat, more of him.

"Definitely my favorite bra," he agrees. "But I still like you better," he adds, his fingers making quick work of unhooking it. His mouth descends on her then, dampening the thin fabric of the bra, and he sinks to his knees before her, giving him greater access to her breasts than he had while they stood together. He's very obviously focused on undressing her as he works on the button of her pants next, seemingly not in the least concerned about his own state of dress.

Meredith, however, is.

"Derek," she murmurs, trying to shake off the haze of lust that surrounds her. She wants him. There's no doubt in her mind that she'll have him, but she wants to touch, to taste, to know, to love, as well as he touches, tastes, knows and loves. She wants to give; she wants to remember and to forget.

"Derek," she says again, trying to break through his haze. It takes a moment before he looks up at her, blinking.

"This might work better if you joined me," she tells him. She laughs softly at the expression on his face: unbridled lust, adoration, and confusion.

Meredith gets down on the grass beside him, paying little attention to the dew. She tilts her head and smiles at him, and then moves in for the kill, her hands pulling, tugging, grasping, clawing at the jacket, the sweater, the dress shirt he wears. She's subconsciously aware that she's probably just ruined his very expensive clothes, but it doesn't matter. She's certain that he won't care. And then they're gone and she's gifted with the expanse of his skin laid bare, presented like a gift she's unwrapped. Derek's lips find the sweet spot just behind her earlobe and she shivers and mewls and pants and curses as he somehow maneuvers them to the blanket and then he's covering her and she's warm and safe and home.

Derek manages to tug her pants down and away and his follow with no effort on her part. She's left in a scrap of lace and some silk and it's too much. She's hyper aware of what remains and slides her hand, palm down, towards the juncture between her thighs. Derek is caught off-guard by her action, and watches, mesmerized, as she slips her fingers beneath the band of the undergarment . Her eyes lock on his and her cheeks flush crimson as her fingers tangle in the soft curls. She slides her fingers over her own folds, and Derek groans when she scrapes her teeth against her bottom lip as she brings herself closer to orgasm.

"Meredith," he chokes as he watches her squirm under her own touch.

"Lots of practice," she rasps softly.

"God," he grinds out. He stares at her, naked desire in his eyes. Meredith undulates her hips as she draws herself closer to the edge.

"Lots," she whispers, her eyelashes brushing against her cheeks as her eyes close involuntarily. She shivers and it's his undoing.

He moves over her, pushing her hand away, even as he discards the last of his remaining clothing. His mouth finds her breast, sucking, nipping, and tugging on her nipple as his hand replaces hers, spreading her apart so that he can access all of her.

"Meredith," he murmurs, his fingers slipping into her curls, past the folds and deeper. Meredith moans and shivers and pushes her body against his. With his free hand, he moves to ready himself, but his actions remind Meredith that she has her own plans and she summons all of her strength to push him away.

She rolls on to her side and takes a lungful of air.

"Please," Derek groans. He squeezes his eyes shut and it's abundantly clear to Meredith that he's struggling to keep from finishing.

"Derek," Meredith whispers. He won't look at her. "Derek," she tries again. When he still can't bring himself to open his eyes, she reaches for him, her fingers closing around the length of his cock. He's hard and solid, thick and strained with the effort of restraining himself. Meredith slides her fingers over the head of his penis, collecting a few drops of moisture. She strokes him until he is mindless.

His eyes open and he breathes a sigh of relief when she pulls her hands away from him and instead moves to kiss him. The vulnerability she allows gives him the opportunity to take the upper hand and he does so greedily, moving quickly to pin her beneath him. His tongue slides against hers and he steals her breath.

She waits for him to take her, but he holds back.

"Derek," she moans, her body making demands that only he can meet.

He smirks. He actually smirks. Meredith grimaces at him in return and from between gritted teeth, she tells him that he's an ass, and will he just… please?

"Please."

He leans in and his lips brush her earlobe. "I told you that I've never been a fan of new. I like your body; I know what makes you moan…" he trails off, his fingers stoking the fire. He dips into her body and she can't help herself from moaning, from gasping, from sobbing.

He settles between her legs, but instead of moving as she expects him to do, he pulls her with him until they're lying face-to-face on the quilt. Derek slides against her in a slow grind and steals her breath again. He keeps his eyes fixed on hers and when Meredith allows hers to slip closed as she creeps closer to the edge, he whispers her name.

She opens her eyes. He's watching her, waiting.

"Derek," she moans. She reaches between them and with the pads of her fingertips, strokes his perineum. Two can play this game, she thinks. She knows how to make him moan, too. She can push him over the edge if she just…

Derek gasps and jerks inside her and then they're shifting again so that he's in a better position to thrust.

Meredith laughs gleefully and scrapes her fingernails down his chest, down, down…

Her walls clench around him and she's more than ready to come, but she has exceptional patience, and she likes being able to make him lose his mind, so she holds back a little longer.

"Fuck," Derek gasps. "Meredith."

She smiles and forces him to roll so that she's on top, and then she moves her head so that her mouth is next to his ear. "Stay here, don't move, wait for me."

He gasps again as her fingers return to stroke him.

"Not. Funny," he manages.

She kisses him, thrusting her tongue into his mouth to draw his into hers. She squeezes him and then lets loose a guttural moan.

"Go…" she groans.

He makes a choking noise and thrusts deeper, and they cling to each other as they push and stroke and give and take.

She can still see the candles when she closes her eyes. And then there's a brighter explosion of light and Derek's voice all around her as he groans and gasps. He spills inside her and she pulses, contracts and moans.

She's still tingling, still reveling in the weight that anchors her when she feels him shiver.

"Lightweight," she teases him.

"Mfff," he says into her hair.

She pushes against him and he rolls away. Meredith stands and pulls on the edge of the blanket, forcing Derek to get to his feet as well.

"Come on," she says, inviting him into the blanket that is wrapped around her shoulders. "Let's go to bed."

Derek looks relieved and they start towards the trailer, but Meredith stops him when they cross the threshold of their "house".

"Champagne," she says. Her eyes twinkle mischievously. "You have more than one set of sheets, right?"

Derek looks mortified.

"Meredith, Rose and I didn't… not here."

She laughs. "I know. I just thought that we might spill the champagne."

Derek grins and drops the blanket, streaking across the field to retrieve the bottle of champagne once more.


End file.
